The Japanese Nozawa Fire Festival

By Joyce Matzke - Japan has festivals for every conceivable occasion, but one of the most interesting is the Himatsuri, or Fire Festival of Nozawa, held every year in January. Nozawa is a beautiful little mountain town high in the Japanese Alps. It is famous for its beauty, natural hot spring spas, and ski runs, but it was the Fire Festival that prompted a group of friends to gather at Nagano Station to catch a bus to Nozawa. The group was made up of John and Laurelai both from Australia; Holly, Henry and Becky from the US; David from England; James from Kenya and me, the lone Canadian. We were all teachers except for James who was an engineering graduate student at Shindai University. The bus, filled to capacity, took about an hour to wind its way up to Nozawa. It had been clear in Nagano when we left, but as we drove higher into the mountains, it began to snow. By the time we arrived, there were large, wet, sloppy flakes pelting down. The first order of business was to find the minshuku where we had booked two rooms for the night. Minshuku are rather like hostels that provide very reasonable lodging and meals. Reaching ours involved a considerable hike up steep winding streets. Once there, we dropped our gear and added several layers of clothing before going out to explore the town.

Japanese Nozawa Fire Festival, by Joyce Matzke

I was reminded very much of small towns in Switzerland and Austria. The content of the shops was different, but the narrow cobbled streets and the small squares with shops full of local craft goods looked very similar in the falling snow. The comparison was completed by the sight of skiers in bright clothes dragging their skis back home in the failing light.

The owner of the lodge had told us that there had been three baby boys born on January 1st, and three poles had been erected for them at three sites in the town. There was no mention of baby girls born that day, as they didn’t count. We were able to find one of the poles in a square not far from the lodge. It was the size of a flagpole, topped by an elaborate decoration. Circling the top of the pole was a large hoop, and from that hung long white streamers with messages of good luck written on them. In front of the pole were two figures made of bamboo. Each figure was almost a meter high. The figures would be given to the child’s family, but the pole with the messages would be taken to the festival site and burned in the conflagration of the evening. As the pole and its messages of good luck burned, the wishes would be carried up to heaven.

Across the street was one of the most famous of the Nozawa bath houses. As we were taking photos, a group of men and women emerged, clad in yukata style robes and carrying paper umbrellas that were bright against the snow. They seemed to have stepped right out of an old woodblock print, and kindly agreed to let us take their pictures, seeming pleased with the attention they had attracted.

It was time to go back to the minshuku for dinner. I had originally planned to stay the night with the group, but I had an appointment in Tokyo the next day. When I learned that my friend Yasuko and her mother were driving up from Nagano after work, I begged a ride back with them in order to avoid the early morning hassle of catching the train. Fortunately, the lodge owner allowed me to join the group for dinner. It was a sumptuous spread, with salmon, chicken, sashimi and raw shrimp along with soup and hot vegetables. The dining room looked rather like a ski lodge, and I’m sure that many of the guests were there for skiing as well as the festival.

After dinner, we quickly donned all available clothing and set off downhill for the main square. The snow had stopped, but the ground was a bit icy under the layer of snow. The main square was easy to find, as everyone was heading that way, and it was crowded when we arrived. TV cameras were set up to one side, and a huge boom with a remote camera hung above the crowd. Although it was considerably past sunset, the square was well lit by large floodlights. The object of everyone’s attention was so strange that it defies description, but so impressive that I had to try.

An enormous tower had been built over the past few weeks, and stood easily four stories high. Imagine four pylons of wood at the bottom of the structure. Piled horizontally onto these were many layers of logs that extended outward to form a top like a mushroom cap. Protruding out of the top of this layer were two tall poplar trees. Their trunks must have been enclosed between the pylons. Way up on the mushroom cap were about twenty men in blue and white coats. Around the bottom of the pylons were a similar number of young men in orange coats. Both groups seemed to be well fortified with sake; they were singing loudly and waving branches of pine. The members of the orange group each held a rope in one hand that was attached to the logs overhead. Directly in front of this structure, a group of Taiko drummers in straw raincoats were performing. In spite of the crowds, we were able to walk right up to the structure and examine it. It certainly did look flammable. The large congratulatory poles we had seen before dinner were now in the square to either side of the pyre.

While the drummers performed, teams of men were walking through the crowd giving out free drinks of sake from bamboo cups. They also had a funnel, and were challenging people to hold the funnel in their mouths while the sake was poured in. The crowd grew jolly very quickly. When the drummers had finished and moved off to a safe distance, the blue men atop the structure began to toss bundles of dried twigs, down to the audience below. A central path was cleared and a fire was lit in a brazier some distance from the structure. It seemed that the point of all of this was to get members of the crowd to light one end of the bundle on fire in the brazier and run up to the structure to set it on fire. The orange team at the base was there to defend the structure and beat out the flames with their pine branches, while clinging to a rope with one hand. If this sounds like total lunacy, you have probably grasped the concept. Those who seemed to have the most to lose, i.e. the blue team on the top of the tower, were the ones tossing the sticks down to the crowd and egging them on. Many times it appeared as though the flames had taken hold only to be beaten out by the orange team. Henry and James both made several runs with burning brands, and came away with singed hair and small holes in their jackets. No wonder we were warned to wear old clothes.

At last, the structure began to blaze with a heat that could not be beaten back by the orange team. The crowd cheered, and the blue team quickly exited their perch by a ladder at the back. The spectacle was impressive, and the heat could be felt throughout the square. We were packed shoulder to shoulder in a solid mass, and I suddenly began to wonder what would happen if the two trees in the centre were to fall toward the crowd. No one could have moved in time to avoid being burned. Fortunately, that did not happen. The good luck poles were moved to the centre and added to the flames, and the good wishes wafted heavenward.

Amazingly, in that noisy crush of people I found Yasuko and her mother—or else they found me. At last the flames were dying down to a good bed of coals. The crowd was still milling around, singing and drinking sake as we slipped away.

What did it all mean? It was explained to me as a kind or rite of passage for men in two age groups. The blue group were men approaching middle age, while the orange group were young men moving from their teens into young adulthood. Each of these groups, it was felt, needed to attempt something dangerous to prove themselves. I’m not sure about the motives, but the results certainly added up to one very exciting festival.